


Potentially Personal

by PhantomWarrior99



Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:28:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25323133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhantomWarrior99/pseuds/PhantomWarrior99
Summary: It's been plaguing him for years. He has to know.
Relationships: Female Shepard/Garrus Vakarian
Comments: 8
Kudos: 69





	Potentially Personal

Her right shoulder. 

It doesn't matter where she is. Elevators. In the midst of a conversation. It's always that right shoulder that she rolls. Her left hand braces the joint as she rolls it in a slow semi-circle. Even after her resurrection by Cerberus, she still moves it cautiously, favoring it in the field.

Garrus has never asked what caused the injury, never brought up how often or how reflexively the Spectre seems to do it. Though, he admits that the curiosity is beginning to get the best of him.

He never got to see Shepard's back before her revival, so, if there were a scar, it's no longer there. But there are certain privileges in being this close with the Commander, in being the only one she allows to spend long hours in her quarters going over intel. In being her confidant and dearest friend, though Garrus often wonders if they could be more.

So, when Shepard leans back in her chair, arching her back to stretch, Garrus lifts his gaze from the data pad in his hands.

"Needing a break, Shepard?"

"No," she returns, tossing him a reassuring look, "We have a limited time to go through these Cerberus files. I want to make the most of your hard work."

He offers a shrug, leaning back on the couch as he props one leg atop the other, "Their system isn't as difficult to crack as they'd like to think. Still, they're bound to notice eventually." He regards her form, vibrant blue tracing along the sturdy curves of her frame, trailing ever higher until she leans back in her seat and rolls that damned right shoulder.

He can't take it anymore.

He sets aside his datapad, "Shepard?"

"Yes, Garrus?" She tears her eyes away from the screen once more.

"Can I ask you something...potentially personal?"

He watches her brow arch, her features contorting into somewhat of a mix of curiosity and amusement before she offers a shrug. "I guess you've earned some prying rights," she stands, striding across the room, much to the Turian's surprise and takes a seat on the other side of the couch, "Shoot."

He uncrosses his legs, shifting to face her and he studies her features. She's completely relaxed, no trace of tension, no subtle flare of distrust, just... _calm_. It's not an expression he's used to from his Commander - from his friend - but it's a nice change of pace, especially after Alenko.

Garrus sits up a little straighter, clearing his throat as he searches for the most delicate way to address the question that's been plaguing his mind in the three years they've been friends - granted, two of those she'd spent in a coma in a Cerberus facility - but he's getting off-topic now.

"Garrus, I promise to give an honest answer _provided_ you can spit the question out."

She's teasing of course, she'd give him an honest answer regardless - she's never lied to him. The thought draws a small smile from the Turian and he meets her gaze, "There is no delicate way to ask this."

"We haven't come this far with delicacy, now have we?" She props her elbow on the back of the couch, resting her cheek on her fist.

_We._

His eyes flicker downwards as the smile broadens slightly. He can't quite put into words how much he likes the sound of that, but he's getting distracted again. Damn his - smitten, was it? Was that the word Joker had used? Yes. Damn his smitten mind. 

"Garrus?"

He looks up to see a shadow of concern creeping into the Commander's features. Brows drawn together. Lips parted. Her hand--

He looks down and her hand is on his, squeezing gently. There's a warmth that flourishes through his chest, chasing away the idle chill of the room as his eyes flicker back to hers and he offers an innocent: "Yes?"

"Are you okay? You seem a little out of it."

Out of it. Yes. That seems like the only logical explanation as to why his mind keeps getting side-tracked. Why he keeps getting lost in his thoughts and forgetting he wants to ask about her shoulder - oh. He's done it again, hasn't he?

He shakes his head to clear it, "I'm fine. Too many boring case files, I think." He's very aware of her touch, every fiber of his being vibrates beneath her warmth and he has to remind himself to breathe. "But back to the topic at hand--"

"Yes?" She quirks a delicate eyebrow and Garrus can almost see the amusement in her eyes as they study him.

"Your shoulder," he blurts out at last.

"What about it?"

"The right one. I've noticed you roll it a lot."

Her head tilts and there's almost a shadow over her features for a moment. She doesn't want to talk about it, it's written in bold text all over her face.

"I can see that that's a sensitive topic. Forget I asked, we should--"

"No." She interjects abruptly, holding up her hand to silence him.

He stares, "No?"

"No. It's a good question and it's damn near time someone knew."

"Shepard--"

"Garrus. You said it could be personal," there's a softness to her features and something inside the Turian aches in response, "It happened on Akuze."

He nods slowly, everything that's happened to the Commander seems to stem from Akuze, why would this one injury be any different? He almost feels stupid for not considering that the planet could be the source.

"What happened?" He leans forward, intrigued by the potential tale.

"When the Thresher Maw attacked, we were taken by surprise. The vehicle I was in was hit, one of their tails lashed out or something, sent the damn thing spiraling across the terrain. Dislocated my shoulder, tore a few ligaments but I made it out. I ended up killing the one who tried to splatter me and then fought my way to a transport. Couple of them got smart, I took another couple of hits. In the end, medics had a hell of a time trying to decipher what muscles attached to what tendons."

Garrus visibly flinches at the image, "But Cerberus rebuilt you? Wouldn't that--"

"You'd think," she chuckles softly, shaking her head, "The scar is gone, but the damned thing still gets stiff all the time."

Garrus regards her for a long moment, trying to decide if he'd be out of line to offer - oh, to hell with it. "I could try and help with that?"

"Chakwas--"

"I'm sure is very helpful, but perhaps a massage?"

It's her turn to regard him and Garrus tilts his head in mild amusement.

"Can't hurt, right?"

She sighs, the skepticism ebbing as she nods, "No, I guess not."

It's a small victory as the Turian adjusts his position on the couch before Shepard turns, unzipping her hoodie enough to allow the sleeves to sag off her shoulders. A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth; he loves to admire the freckles that speckle her skin. They're like tiny stars with constellations all their own.

"You gonna stare all day? Or are you gonna help?" She laughs softly, stealing a glimpse over her shoulder at him.

"Right, sorry," he gently rests his hands on her shoulders.

"It's only the--"

"Relax, Shepard, I've got this." He scolds and the Commander holds up her hands in mock defeat. 

Her skin is so soft - for a soldier. His fingers ghost over the scars left behind by Cerberus'a reconstruction and he can swear he felt her flinch. He can't imagine the memories that are linked to them, even if she had been in an alleged coma. So as he gently, yet firmly massages the muscles along her neck and shoulders, he's conscious of the scars, careful not to touch them.

Her chin sags against her chest, eyes falling shut as he works and a small smile tugs are the corner of his mouth - until her comm buzzes.

She lifts her head with a sigh as Garrus pulls back, reaching over to press the answer button.

"Shepard, what the _hell_ have you done now?"

Shepard and Garrus exchange an amused look. Lawson is furious.

"I'll be right there, Miranda." Shepard shuts off the comm with a sigh. "No rest for the weary."

"No, I suppose not," he watches her stand and adjust the hoodie before zipping it up.

"Thanks for the massage, Garrus, it did help a bit."

"Glad to be of service. Perhaps next time we won't get interrupted," he reclines against the back of the couch and she smiles. Spirits, that smile of hers. He doesn't get to see it often enough.

"Maybe." The smile fades just as quickly as it appears, "Well, time to go diffuse Lawson."

"Good luck. I'll finish up here."

"Oh no, if I'm getting both barrels for this, _you're_ coming with."

The Turian snorts in amusement as he gets to his feet, "Yes, ma'am."

"Might need another massage later," she presses the call button for the elevator, stealing a glimpse towards him.

His heart skips.

"I look forward to it."

\-------------------

**Author's Note:**

> Hey folks!  
> I hope you enjoyed the fic! Please leave a kudo/comment and let me know your thoughts!  
> ~Phantom


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